World Cup Reading Seminar #1 - Algeria

How better to pass the time until the World Cup kicks off in June than by learning a little about each of the nations competing? From Algeria-Uruguay, each episode of this reading seminar will introduce you to one work of fiction from, and one work of nonfiction about the field of 32.

A Tale of Two Titans

Algeria
has produced two world-renown soccer players, men so famous that today,
long after they have retired, one need only utter their
last names to produce instant recognition. Both originate from tiny
towns just inland from Algeria's Mediterranean coastline. Both grew up
in poverty and became among the all-time greats. And the careers of both
came to an end with their heads smashing into the instruments of their
destruction. The head of the elder of the two went crashing through the
plexiglass rear window of a 1959 Facel-Vega HK-500 and onto the trunk,
breaking his neck and killing him instantly in the French countryside.
The head of the younger went crashing into the chest of a 6' 4" Italian
center-back, causing the Italian to collapse to the ground as if struck a
mortal blow and the referee to produce the footballer's death sentence,
a red card, in what would be his final game as a professional player.
The men are, of course, Camus and Zidane. But wait a minute, you say, aren't they French? And besides, what does Camus have to do with soccer?

It's true that Camus is better-known as a Nobel Prize-winning writer than for his soccer skills. However, as a teenager, he played
goalie for Racing Universitaire Algerios junior squad (in the above photo, he's the one in the scarf and floppy hat sitting in the front). By all
accounts, he was quite good until a bout of tuberculosis at age 18 derailed
all future sporting prospects. He is also forever linked to the game for his famous line:
“Everything I know about morality and the obligations of men, I owe it
to football.” (You can even buy a t-shirt with his name on the back and
with the quote on the front here.)
Alas, according to the Camus Society -- and they ought to
know -- what he actually wrote said "sport" not "football" but that's
been largely lost over time.

Zidane, of course, is best known for his
on-field status as one of the all-time great midfielders, and not his
writing -- despite his doubtlessly riveting post-1998 World Cup "as told to" instabook Le Roman d'une Victoire. If you've never seen him play, try and track down a
copy of the strange documentary Zidane: A 21st Century Portrait, which
is basically a bunch of cameras tracking him throughout a Spanish league
game, with a backing soundtrack by Mogwai. (Or you can just watch a pirated version one of which is linked to below.)

Nationality, Identity, and FIFA

The question of Camus and Zidane being Algerian or French isn't really
debatable from a legal standpoint -- both men were/are French citizens.
Camus was born in Algeria, and lived there until he was 24. However,
during those years (1913-37), Algeria was a "department"
of France -- a colony, but one with the status of a mainland
jurisdiction, fully integrated into the French administrative system.
That's why even though he he supported the Algerian nationalist
movement, every thing you will ever read about Camus identifies him as
French. Zidane was born in the exurbs of Marseille, and is thus
indisputably French. His parents had immigrated from a small Berber
village in the 1950s, and from all accounts, his home life was certainly
culturally Algerian and Zidane certainly emphasized the supremacy of
this part of his identity in interviews such as such this excellent 2004 profile:
"Every day I think about where I come from and I am still proud to be
who
I am: first, a Kabyle from La Castellane, then an Algerian from
Marseille, and then a Frenchman." (Off topic, but La Castellane appears to be one of
those utterly grim planned exburbs of endless brutalist tower blocks, at
least based on the photos accompanying the local gangster rap below.)

This issue of national
identity found new life in the aftermath of the civil war that tore
Algeria apart from 1991-98 (or 2001 depending on how one defines the end
of a civil war). Estimates are that perhaps 100,000-150,000 people
were killed in the civil war, many in the most brutal massacres
imaginable, and led to massive flight from the country during those
years and the decade following. (As I recently discovered on a family
trip, every other taxi driver in Montreal is an Algerian immigrant of
that era.) Naturally, the country's sporting infrastructure fell into
disarray, and the national soccer federation was faced with having to
completely rebuild its program.

Inspired
by the results of Zidane's development within the French soccer academy
system, the Algerian federation pursued a canny strategy of lobbying
FIFA to change its eligibility rules with regards to youth (under 21)
players holding dual nationality. And indeed, in 2004 the first player
to switch his national eligibility under new FIFA rules was Antar Yahia,
who played in French blue at the under-16 and under-18 national level,
and then switched to Algerian green. Encouraged by the crop of talent
thus obtained, the Algerian federation proposed even greater
liberalization of eligibility, and in 2009, FIFA rules were opened so
that as long as a player hadn't played a competitive game for a senior
squad, they could switch eligibility. (For American fans, this is the
change that made Jermaine Jones eligible to play for the US.)

The
effects of these efforts by the Algerian Federation have been
remarkable. If you look at the current French national team, you'll find
two internationally-known superstars of Algerian decent: Karim Benzema
and Samir Nasri (pictured above, both were controversially left off France's
2010 World Cup squad). But more tellingly, if you look at the current
Algerian national team roster currently listed on Wikipedia, 15 of the
23 players listed were born in France. A handful represented France at
the youth level -- presumably reaching a point where (unlike Benzema and
Nasri) it became clear they would never be good enough for the senior
squad, and thus declared for Algeria instead.

So,
in a very real sense, recent Algerian teams can be thought of as a form
of French junior varsity teams in terms of quality. And yet, in the
last World Cup, they outperformed France. Algeria lost on a late goal to
Slovenia after going down to 10 men, they battled England to a
scoreless draw, and looked to be doing the same to the US until a late
injury-time goal by Landon Donovan ended their World Cup. Meanwhile, the
French team imploded on and off the field, and returned home coated in
disgrace.

The Underdogs

Algeria's
two most noteworthy on-field moments in world football both involved
underdog status and Rachid Mekloufi. The first of these takes us back to the special
relationship with France. The 1958 World Cup took place almost exactly
at the midpoint of Algeria's war for independence from France. That
French team was quite strong (they would bow out in the semi-finals to
the Pele-led Brazil team that would win the cup), and included two
Algerians who were expected to start: Mustapha Zitouni and the
aforementioned Rachid Mekloufi. However, two months before the
competition, the two men, along with seven other French-based
professionals, slipped over the border to Switzerland to form the core
of Equipe FLN. This would be the "national" team of the FLN independence
movement, representing the fight for liberation from France. They would
go on to play something like 90 exhibition matches, mostly in the Middle East and
Eastern Europe but as far afield as Vietnam and China over the course of four
years. And when independence was won in 1962, most returned to play for their old
French clubs. (For more on this interesting story, read this, and this, and in French, this.) In an odd twist, Mekloufi scored two goals in the 1968
French Cup final to lead his club to victory, resulting in President DeGaulle bestowing a medal on him.

Algeria's second moment in the football spotlight took place at the 1982
World Cup. In the group stage, they were matched up against West
Germany. The oddsmakers pegged them as 1000-1 underdogs, and their 2-1
defeat of the reigning European Champions remains
ranked one of the ten biggest upsets in World Cup history. It also led
to the possibility of their advancing to the
next round at the expense of either Austria or West Germany, depending
on the results of the final group games. This was cold-bloodedly
avoided by the collusion between
West Germany and Austria to rig the results of the final match in the
group so that the two fraternal sides would advance, and Algeria would
not. This low moment in World Cup history (known as "The Shame of
Gijon") led to the alteration of the format into what we are all now
familiar with, wherein the final group games of a tournament are played
concurrently, to lessen the possibility of any such
ungentlemanly arrangements. The coach of the '82 Algerian team was, of
course, Rachid Mekloufi.

Readings

As you might have gathered from the above, Algeria's complicated relationship with France has continues to be important, some 51 years after the bloody and brutal war of independence. As such, it continues to
dominate Western perceptions of the country and what little we know
about Algeria is generally filtered through that particular lens.
So it should come as no surprise that English-language nonfiction book
about Algeria that has far and away the highest profile is Alistair
Horne's 1977 study of the war of independence, A Savage War of Peace: Algeria 1954-1962. If you recognize the title, it's probably because it
had an unlikely second life in 2006 when everyone from President Bush
(supposedly) to newly minted junior Lieutenants headed to Iraq was
reading it for lessons on how not to run a counter-insurgency military
operation in an Arab/Muslim country. I've never read it, but glowing
reviews from outlets as varied as The Washington Post and the Marine
Corps Gazette vouch for its readability. However, if you're looking for
something softer and more personal, the collection An Algerian Childhood, may be more to your taste.

There
are plenty of options for translated Algerian fiction, but I gravitate toward
the works of the pseudonymous Yasmina Khadra. An international
bestseller for books such as The Swallows of Kabul and The Attack
(neither set in Algeria), Khadra the pen name of former Algerian Army major Mohammed Moulessehoul. He fled Algeria to live in France in 2000, and in breaking news, just two weeks ago announced his intention to run for President of Algeria in 2014. His book Dead Man's Share is a prequel to his "Inspector Llob" crime trilogy, set in
1988, just prior to the start of the civil war. Like the best crime
stories, it's also a social history that paints a vivid picture Algeria
just before it imploded. In What the Day Owes the Night (which oddly,
was not released in the US), he tackles the War of Independence, and how
it ripped Algerian communities apart, through the eyes of a young boy
in love, caught between the European world and the Algerian world.

A Footnote

Strictly speaking, there was a
third famous Algerian footballer (bottom row, far left, in the photo above), also
with a complicated relationship to France. However, in the interests of
time and space, I was unable to weave Ahmed Ben Bella into this article.
Those who recognize the name will know him as a founding member of what
became the FLN, a leader in the fight for independence, and Algeria's
first president. Prior to that, he served in the French army with high
distinction during World War II, earning a croix de guerre (roughly the
equivalent of the US Bronze or Silver Star) and later a médaille
military for bravery at Monte Cassino -- the latter awarded by DeGaulle.
However, he also played central midfield quite well, and was offered a
professional contract by Olympique de Marseille following the 1939/40
season.